Nomad
by Phosphorescent
Summary: She's on her way back to Afghanistan, land of the sun and bombs, of poppies and death.


_Disclaimer: Bones isn't mine. It never has been and it never will be._

_A/N: I didn't particularly like Hannah, but I don't think it's fair to blame her for the entire breakdown of the Booth/Hannah relationship. Neither of them was trying to lead the other on; in the end, they just wanted different things, and weren't able to work through those differences. (And, of course, Booth was still at least half in love with Brennan. *removes shipper glasses*)_

_Also, I highly suggest reading Robert William Service's _The Wanderlust_. It helped to form my concept of Hannah, and it's a gorgeous piece of poetry._

* * *

><p>Cam: "I'm still…this is everything you own in the world?" (Gestures to Hannah's bags)<p>

Hannah: "Mhmm. It's the life I choose."

Angela: "Yeah, she travels light. I used to travel light."

Brennan: "Booth won't even have to make room for you."

[...]

Angela: "You're basically taking in a homeless woman."

Hannah: "I prefer the term nomad."

- 6x03: _The Maggots in the Meathead_.

* * *

><p>It doesn't take her long to pack. That's the good thing about being a nomadic reporter, she supposes; you get used to travelling light. To leaving places (people) behind.<p>

Their apartment – _Seeley's_ apartment – looks like it did when she first swept back into his life, full of optimism and energy. It was her home for a short time, but, like all her homes before this one, no trace of her will linger once she's left it.

She'd really thought that this could be it for her, that _he_ could be it. That she might stay here. That she might make her home in this city, insipid storylines and all. That Seeley's friends could be her friends. That she could belong.

She loves him, after all. Shouldn't that be enough?

Only, it appears he never really heard anything that she said. He listened to her, but he never understood that when she said she wasn't the marrying kind, she meant it. What is it with men thinking they can change her?

She loves him, and he loves her, and he may be the great love of her life, but he doesn't _get_ it, get her. She's been a nomad so long that she's not sure she knows any other way of life. She's not ready to tie herself down to any one person, to any one place. She needs more time, and he can't hear what her rejection of his proposal means over the sound of his own hurt ego and broken heart.

When she thinks about settling down – really settling down – she feels trapped, almost claustrophobic. She loves Seeley, but she isn't willing to sacrifice her sanity for his happiness. She'd grow to hate him, and he'd come to resent her, and wouldn't that make a pretty picture?

She can still see his face, and she feels a renewed surge of anger and heartbreak. Suddenly, the fact that he didn't hear her is _her_ fault? (She knows better than to think any of his friends will side with her.)

She loves him, and she'd never wanted him to get hurt. She'd known he was the marrying kind, but had thought that they'd have more time before he popped the question, time for her to adjust to the idea of a 'forever'. But he moved at warp speed, and her usually quick heart and brain are still reeling, trying desperately to catch up to his.

And it isn't _fair_, damn it! As a reporter, she's seen enough injustices in the world to know that _life_ isn't fair, but that doesn't stop her heart from aching.

She doesn't have much to pack. Just clothes and her laptop, memories and regrets.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Her former editor is glad to take her back. No one can turn a headline as well as she, after all, and attractive women sell news better than balding, middle-aged men.

So she's on her way back to Afghanistan, land of the sun and bombs, of poppies and death. (Of Master Sgt. Seeley Booth.)

She stops in a bookstore at the airport to get reading material for the flight.

When asked what kind of book she's looking for, she says, "Blood and guts."

Something in her expression must be telling, because the clerk (whose nametag proclaims her as 'Cindy') says sympathetically, "Rough breakup?"

"Something like that," Hannah replies with a wry twist of her lips.

"Got just the thing for you," Cindy says. "A new shipment just came in yesterday."

The clerk hands her a book, and really, someone up there must have it out for her, because it's _Ashes to Ashes, Bones to Dust_.

"The latest Kathy Reichs thriller," Cindy says, looking pleased with herself. "Plenty of blood for you in there. Plus, a romantic relationship that goes down the drain."

Curious, Hannah flips the book open, and reads the summary on the flap jacket.

"_When forensic anthropologist Kathy Reichs is called home early from a dig, the last thing she expects to find is one of her own implicated in a series of grave robbery murders. But the murders are occurring at the same church that her partner, Agent Andy Lister, regularly attends. And what's going on with Andy, anyway? Ever since their fight six months ago, he's been acting oddly. Between interoffice politics at the Madisonian and Andy's distant behavior, Kathy isn't sure who she can trust. Only one thing is certain: as sure as bones turn to dust, the human skeleton never lies."_

"Have you read any of Brennan's novels before?" Cindy asks.

"I haven't had the pleasure, no," Hannah says.

She's a reporter… why _hadn't_ she read any of Temperance's books before meeting her? Surely that would have been the logical thing to do.

"I'll take it," she tells Cindy, handing her the book.

"Hope you enjoy it," Cindy says.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

By the time the plane lands in Afghanistan, she's finished the book. Temperance hadn't lied; she's a damn good author. The book is well-paced, has a convincingly creepy villain, and a plausible plot. More than that, though, the characters are alive.

That's not due to Temperance's imagination, though. No, Temperance's characters live on the page because they exist in real life.

And maybe now Hannah knows why she never read any of these books. Subconsciously, she thinks, she was trying to protect herself. Because if Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth love each other even half as much as their fictional counterparts do, it's clear that she never stood a chance. And while she's never been one to shirk from the truth, everyone is allowed to delude themselves in the name of love once in a while.

So, despite the pain in her heart, she's never been so glad to have refused Seeley's proposal.

She can't help but feel a bit angry with them, though, because really? This wasn't fair to her at all. Why didn't someone tell her what she was getting into? She'd had suspicions, of course, but never in her wildest dreams had she thought that the two of them were so, well, _so_.

But she loves Seeley and likes Temperance, and maybe the two of them deserve each other. And she's a decent enough woman to not want to stand in their way.

Heart-sore for a man who was never really hers, and homesick for a place that was never really her home, she prepares to disembark. But Hannah Burley is a fighter, not a victim.

So she lifts her head and straightens her spine, and steps out into the hot Afghani desert. Dry winds buffet her at every step, and sand finds its way into every crevice of her clothing. She smiles. This? This is where she belongs.

She's a writer of wrongs and rights, a crusader for the truth. This life (however lonesome) is _hers_, and it is beautiful.

She walks forward.


End file.
